This is the part of blogging where I begin to feel very self conscious. I don't want to give you, my readers, a detailed description of what I've been doing in Istanbul since I arrived. You can ask me about that. And besides, it's not what's important. For me, the important things are the small ones. The meaningful encounters that everyone comes across on the road. The moments of fear, inexplicable happiness, and confusion. So that is what I will attempt to convey through my writing. I hope it's enough.
I'll begin with fear. That's an easy one when you touch down in a new country, alone, with no grasp on the native language, and no familiar faces. Of course you can't expect things to be easy, but my experience in the airport pushed my (exhausted) nerves. I found that I was without luggage (it hadn't been put on the plane from NY to Helsinki!) and was told there was no bus into the city center for the next two hours. I almost burst into tears. I must have looked very foreign and very afraid with a shock of blond hair and wide-with-fear-blue-eyes pacing the bus stop in the hopes that miraculously the Harry Potter Knight Bus would appear from thin air to take me to safety. Fortunately, a well-spoken businessman came to my aid and helped me find my way (whatever anyone tells you about Turkish men is a gross over-exaggeration, and even the bad ones are no worse than your average Greenwich lawn-mower). Sitting next to me on the bus he said, "you are a very brave girl to do all this travel on your own," he said when I explained my potential route. He has no idea.
We tend to forget that more often than not, people are eager to help. When my luggage was delivered (more than 24 hours later, at 1AM) I found myself on the phone with the driver who didn't speak a word of English. I had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. He was clearly lost, and I had no way of explaining where I was or how to get to the apartment. Fortunately, I had Gill and her enterprising ways: she simply walked to the corner shop where an English and Turkish speaking Greek man hopped on his scooter and guided the driver to my door. And I was able to put on clean clothes for the first time in 3 days. A moment of pure joy.
One of the best parts of experiencing a new city is finally feeling like you have a vague idea of how to get from place to place. I've seen the tourist hot spots now, and visited some out of the way (and dare I say it much more interesting) places by way of the ever-increasing population of young American expats, and I finally feel like I can walk out the door and find my way just about anywhere. Furthermore, I have gotten up the guts to start speaking the language. Tesekkur ederim (thank you), Ne kadar (how much is it), Ingilizce biliyor musunuz (Do you speak English). It's always nice to speak to someone in their native tongue, however badly you might butcher it.
Some of the encounters I've had have been very moving. Last evening, at a bbq with several of Gill's CNN colleagues, a young refugee joined us. Arash is an Iranian journalist and political activist who worked for Mousavi's campaign. Arrested and released in his own country, he decided to flee for fear of being arrested again and he escaped to Turkey by joining a group of Iraqi and Afghan smugglers to cross the border, and is currently seeking refugee status in the US. "I want to go to go to Tampa" he says smiling across the dinner table. He is full of life and exuberance, often toasting and enjoying Gill's sangria. For those interested, cheers in Farsi is Ba'sal'a'ma'ti.
The journalism world is an interesting one, and I am struck by the fearlessness of Gill's new group of friends. Her boss, CNN correspondent Ivan Watson, is off to Pakistan next week. Our roommate Monique, a freelance photographer is heading back to Afghanistan, and Maddie went to Tel Aviv this morning. See here for some of Ivan and Gill's fearless footage.
Sometimes the quiet is most beautiful. Sitting outside the magnificent Ayasofya, I watched a stray cat trying to catch a bumble bee in the dappled sunlight of the courtyard, and it was easy to see just how wonderful it is to be alive. To be experiencing each moment.
I'm off to the Syrian embassy to see if I can get a visa.
I'll begin with fear. That's an easy one when you touch down in a new country, alone, with no grasp on the native language, and no familiar faces. Of course you can't expect things to be easy, but my experience in the airport pushed my (exhausted) nerves. I found that I was without luggage (it hadn't been put on the plane from NY to Helsinki!) and was told there was no bus into the city center for the next two hours. I almost burst into tears. I must have looked very foreign and very afraid with a shock of blond hair and wide-with-fear-blue-eyes pacing the bus stop in the hopes that miraculously the Harry Potter Knight Bus would appear from thin air to take me to safety. Fortunately, a well-spoken businessman came to my aid and helped me find my way (whatever anyone tells you about Turkish men is a gross over-exaggeration, and even the bad ones are no worse than your average Greenwich lawn-mower). Sitting next to me on the bus he said, "you are a very brave girl to do all this travel on your own," he said when I explained my potential route. He has no idea.
We tend to forget that more often than not, people are eager to help. When my luggage was delivered (more than 24 hours later, at 1AM) I found myself on the phone with the driver who didn't speak a word of English. I had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. He was clearly lost, and I had no way of explaining where I was or how to get to the apartment. Fortunately, I had Gill and her enterprising ways: she simply walked to the corner shop where an English and Turkish speaking Greek man hopped on his scooter and guided the driver to my door. And I was able to put on clean clothes for the first time in 3 days. A moment of pure joy.
One of the best parts of experiencing a new city is finally feeling like you have a vague idea of how to get from place to place. I've seen the tourist hot spots now, and visited some out of the way (and dare I say it much more interesting) places by way of the ever-increasing population of young American expats, and I finally feel like I can walk out the door and find my way just about anywhere. Furthermore, I have gotten up the guts to start speaking the language. Tesekkur ederim (thank you), Ne kadar (how much is it), Ingilizce biliyor musunuz (Do you speak English). It's always nice to speak to someone in their native tongue, however badly you might butcher it.
Some of the encounters I've had have been very moving. Last evening, at a bbq with several of Gill's CNN colleagues, a young refugee joined us. Arash is an Iranian journalist and political activist who worked for Mousavi's campaign. Arrested and released in his own country, he decided to flee for fear of being arrested again and he escaped to Turkey by joining a group of Iraqi and Afghan smugglers to cross the border, and is currently seeking refugee status in the US. "I want to go to go to Tampa" he says smiling across the dinner table. He is full of life and exuberance, often toasting and enjoying Gill's sangria. For those interested, cheers in Farsi is Ba'sal'a'ma'ti.
The journalism world is an interesting one, and I am struck by the fearlessness of Gill's new group of friends. Her boss, CNN correspondent Ivan Watson, is off to Pakistan next week. Our roommate Monique, a freelance photographer is heading back to Afghanistan, and Maddie went to Tel Aviv this morning. See here for some of Ivan and Gill's fearless footage.
Sometimes the quiet is most beautiful. Sitting outside the magnificent Ayasofya, I watched a stray cat trying to catch a bumble bee in the dappled sunlight of the courtyard, and it was easy to see just how wonderful it is to be alive. To be experiencing each moment.
I'm off to the Syrian embassy to see if I can get a visa.